Faking Reality Page 8

  Zack suddenly wished he’d understood her words back then. Now it was too late. He sincerely wished he could turn back the clock, but he knew that he couldn’t. Feeling defeated, Zack lay his head on his desk and prayed.

  “Father, I thank you for my wife and my new daughter. Thank you for my strong and beautiful sons. You have blessed me so much that I have no right to ask for more. My love for Charlene is surpassed only by my love for you. If I lost her, I would lose myself. I know I don’t deserve her, but she loves me, Father. Things are closing in on me, and I don’t know what to do. Dear God, I beg of you, help me . . . please help me.”

  When he was done praying, Zack picked up the phone book and searched through the pages. He stopped when he located the phone number for the hospital where his daughter had been born. “I’m trying to get in touch with one of your employees,” he said to the operator. “Her name is Mabel Joe Stevens . . . Yes, I’ll hold.” Impatiently, his fingernails tapped against the desk as he waited. After almost five minutes on hold, she finally picked up the line.

  “This is Mabel Joe. Make it quick, I’m on the clock.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Stevens, this is Zack Morton.”

  “Well, well. I haven’t seen or heard from you in years, and now I get the pleasure twice in one week. What can I do for ya, Zack?”

  He hesitated before speaking. “It was such a surprise seeing you. I was hoping we could get together and talk about old times.”

  “Ain’t that a blip? I’d like that, but I won’t have a day off until next week. How about I come to the church? I’ve been dying to see that new building you put up. I heard it’s spectacular.”

  “It is, and I’d love for you to see it someday, but it’s not a good meeting place. There’s so much going on, there would be constant interruptions. I have a better idea. Let’s meet for lunch somewhere downtown. It would be my treat.”

  Mabel Joe smiled broadly. “That would be really nice. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  After choosing a restaurant and a time, Zack hung up the phone and continued his pacing. Over and over he repeated in his head as he paced, It’s the best thing for my family. It’s the best thing for my family.

  Soon, Zack realized that he wasn’t going to get anything done, so he decided to leave his office and return home. He was just getting into his car when his phone rang. “Hello,” he answered.

  “Good afternoon, Apostle Morton. This is Jacob Robins. I called to let you know that your necklace is ready. You can pick it up this afternoon if you’d like.”

  Seeing Mabel Joe again had rattled Zack so deeply that he’d completely forgotten about his wife’s gift. While he was away from the hospital the morning following Coretta’s birth, he’d stopped by the jeweler’s and ordered Charlene a platinum baby’s foot pendant hanging from a platinum chain. It also had a flawless emerald stone, which was Coretta’s birthstone, encrusted in the big toe.

  “Thank you, Jacob. Can you have it gift wrapped for me. I will be stopping by within the hour.”

  “Certainly, it will be ready when you arrive.”

  Filled with excitement, Zack yelled out Charlene’s name as soon as he entered the house and bounded up the stairs. He ran so fast the cameraman had trouble keeping up with him. First he went into their bedroom, and when she wasn’t there, he rushed to the nursery, still yelling loudly. Charlene was leaning over the crib, as she laid Coretta down.

  “Charlene, I have a surprise for you,” he said. His voice boomed with enthusiasm.

  “Shhh,” she put her index finger up to her lips. “She just dozed off.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zack whispered. “Come here. I have something for you.”

  Grinning, Charlene rushed over to where he stood. “What is it?” she asked excitedly. Charlene had begun to think that she wasn’t going to receive anything. Seven years earlier, after she had given birth to the twins, Zack had surprised her at the hospital with a charm bracelet. The bracelet contained two charms in the shape of little boys with Martin and Luther’s birthstone on their chests. The stones were cheap glass, the gold was plated, and it looked as if he’d purchased it at Kmart, but she loved it just the same. Now that their financial outlook was better, Charlene had expected a gift to celebrate Coretta’s birth, but Zack returned to the hospital that morning with only grits and eggs. Until he showed up with the gift she had not realized how disappointed that had made her.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “No, just give it to me,” she squealed.

  Zack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the package. Charlene snatched it from his hands and started ripping the ribbons and wrapping. Finally, she reached the center and pulled out the velvet jewelry box. She looked at him and grinned before opening it. “Oh, Zack, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed.

  “Do you really like it?” he asked.

  “I love it,” she gushed. “Put it on for me.”

  Turning around, Charlene held on to her ponytail while Zack placed the pendant around her neck. Lovingly, he kissed the nape of her neck when he was done.

  Spinning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his lips. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Zack held her tightly in his arms. He realized he wasn’t the easiest man to live with considering his oddities and idiosyncrasies. But Charlene did it with a smile on her face. She’d given up a lucrative medical practice and a spacious condo to move into his tiny two-bedroom apartment after their marriage. Family was very important to Charlene, yet she didn’t listen to her family or friends when they warned her not to marry a white man. “I fell in love with a man, not a color,” she’d told them. Nothing they said affected her feelings about Zack. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that she loved him completely and unconditionally. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do for her. It’s the best thing for our family.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hello, Mr. Washington, thanks so much for meeting me.” Jimmy Snow stood up and extended his hand.

  “Thank you for the invitation. I know most station owners don’t get directly involved with their cast, but I set out to do something totally different with Revelations . By the way, I gave your camera crew the afternoon off. This meeting doesn’t need to be filmed.”

  “That’s fine with me. Frankly, the cameras make me nervous. Please have a seat,” Jimmy offered, then sat down also. As he did, he noticed Julian looking around the room. “I hope you don’t mind meeting here at The Spiritual Blessings Café. Since it’s a part of the church, I have lunch here often.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all. I was just admiring the atmosphere.”

  The Spiritual Blessings Café was one of the ideas that Jimmy Snow was adamant about being a part of his church’s recent expansion. It was reminiscent of a college coffee house with bistro-style tables and chairs. The ambiance and décor were warm and inviting. Gospel artists such as Yolanda Adams, Byron Cage, and Kirk Franklin were gently piped through the speakers, offering subtle background music. Near the back of the café was a computer lab that also featured free Wi-Fi service. The café served specialty coffees and teas, as well as an assortment of soft drinks and juices. During the morning hours, they offered a continental breakfast of homemade muffins, pastries, rolls, and bagels which were baked and donated by church members. The lunch menu consisted of an assortment of cold sandwiches and salads.

  “This is one of my favorite spots at the church. All of the food is prepared by church members, and it’s extremely delicious,” Jimmy said.

  A lanky teenager with long micro braids approached their table and handed them two menus. “Are you having the usual, Bishop?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you, Lena.” He turned to Julian “What would you like, Mr. Washington?”

  Julian looked up from his menu. “Please call me, Julian. Um . . . What’s the usual?”

  “I usually have a Rueben sandwich with potato salad,” Jimmy answered.

  “Sounds good to me.” Julian
closed his menu and handed it back to Lena. When she was gone, he turned to Jimmy. “Why are there no prices on the menu?”

  “That’s my favorite part about this place. It’s operated totally on donations from the members. There are no set prices. If you can afford to pay something, we have an offering box. If you can’t, then you’ve just received a blessing.”

  Julian raised one eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that any bum off the street can come in here and eat for free? I’m surprised the place isn’t overrun with deadbeats and homeless people.”

  “You know, that opinion isn’t rare. Some of my own members shared the same sentiment when I first suggested this place. We have some homeless people who are regulars, but this isn’t a soup kitchen.” Discreetly, Jimmy pointed to a young lady sitting nearby with her laptop computer. “It’s for the college student on a budget.” He turned slightly in his seat and motioned toward the computer lab. “It’s for the single, unemployed mothers with kids to feed. She’s using the computers to search for a job, and her kids will have something nutritious to eat.”

  Unimpressed, Julian continued. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. My point is how can you afford to keep this place running? I know the food is donated, but you have overhead. I mean, this place is nice, really nice. The money has to come from something besides donations.”

  Jimmy nodded his head. “I understand your point. But there’s something I’ve learned over the years. It doesn’t take money to have ministry. If you concentrate on ministry, the money will come. God will provide it. If you chase the money, your ministries will suffer.”

  Lena returned with their lunch just as Julian was about to protest further. He held his tongue as she laid the plates on the table and returned to the kitchen. “That sounds good, Bishop, it really does. But it’s not realistic.”

  Jimmy turned around in his chair and pointed toward the front door. On the wall directly above the entrance Julian saw a beautifully etched verse of scripture. “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).

  Unable to argue with scripture, Julian decided that further protest was futile. Instead of speaking, he picked up his sandwich and took a bite. The corned beef inside was tender and juicy. Grabbing a napkin, he caught the juice before it began to dribble down his chin. “This is delicious,” he commented.

  “My wife makes them. They are my favorite.”

  The mention of Bishop Snow’s wife brought Julian’s thoughts back to the real reason he’d agreed to the meeting. “Oh, yes, your wife. Isn’t she the reason you wanted to speak with me?”

  Jimmy put down his sandwich, then chewed and swallowed the bite he’d just taken. “My wife, Yolanda, was very disappointed after the premiere last week. It’s gotten even worse since the first episode aired to the public last night.”

  “I don’t understand. Your segment was one of the most popular.”

  “You may not know this, but I never wanted to do this TV show. It was all my wife’s idea, and you know how wives can be when they really want something.”

  Julian shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been married.” I was saving myself for my beloved Ophelia, he thought.

  “Oh, well, anyway, Yolanda was insistent that we do the show, and I only agreed to it in order to please her.”

  Julian nodded his head, encouraging him to continue.

  “You see, my wife has always wanted to be an actress. At one time that was all she dreamed of. So this show is really important to her, and she was really disappointed that she had such little camera time.”

  Julian was taken aback. The reason she wasn’t featured more prominently was because all of her footage was sitting in his theatre room and the editors did not have an opportunity to work it into the show. Realizing he couldn’t explain that to Jimmy, he faked concern. “Really? Are you sure it wasn’t more?”

  “I’m sure. My wife has been screaming, ranting, and mumbling ‘forty-five seconds’ over and over again since the premiere.”

  “Well, I understand her concern. Although it’s primarily a show about the ministers, we want to include the families and wives as much as possible. I’ll speak with the producer to see if we can add in a little more of her footage.”

  “Thank you. I understand that the show is primarily about the ministers, but a large part of my ministry is keeping my wife happy,” Jimmy laughed.

  Chuckling politely, Julian reached for his potato salad cup, then took a bite. As soon as it hit his palate, his taste buds grabbed him and dragged him backward in time.

  “Ophelia, you make the best potato salad in South Carolina.” He grinned at her and took another bite.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls. It’s my granny’s recipe. I just threw it together. Besides, you said you loved my chicken supreme and my lemon pound cake. You love everything I cook.”

  “I know I shower you with compliments, but this is different. When we get married, I want you to serve me potato salad for dinner every night.”

  Ophelia’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at him. “Married? But we’ve only been dating a few weeks.”

  He took her hand into his. “I know, but this is right. I can feel it. There is no other woman for me on this earth. You are everything and the only thing that I want. Marry me, Ophelia. Be my wife.” That was the first time he proposed, but it wouldn’t be the last.

  Jimmy Snow’s hand waving in front of his face brought him back to the café.

  “Are you okay? You spaced out for a minute.”

  Julian struggled to regain his composure. He pointed at his plate. “This potato salad is wonderful. Which one of your members donated this?”

  Jimmy beamed with pride. “My wife made this also. She’s a wonderful cook, don’t you think?”

  The potato salad sealed everything for Julian. Anderson had done as Julian asked and gathered as much background information on Yolanda Snow as he could. Julian had learned that she had the same birth date as Ophelia. Just like Julian and Ophelia, Yolanda was a native of Greenburg, S.C. Ophelia moved to Atlanta after college, the same as Yolanda Snow.

  While looking over the information, Julian tried to convince himself that it was all just a bizarre coincidence. Ophelia was dead; he had visited her gravesite many times. He’d also considered the possibility of identity theft. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to forage through the obituaries and assume another person’s life story. That theory sank when he realized there was no reason for Yolanda to assume Ophelia’s life, unless she also took her name.

  So he’d agreed to meet with Jimmy Snow in the hopes that he could fill in the holes in the story and somehow get confirmation or denial that Yolanda was or was not his beloved Ophelia. He’d only caught a glimpse of her during the premiere party, and he was reluctant to approach her unless he was positive of her identity. During lunch, he’d planned to coyly ask questions about her without letting on his true intentions. Gobbling down another bite of potato salad and savoring the flavor, he realized there was no doubt. Yolanda and Ophelia had to be the same person.

  Leaning forward, he began his rehearsed line of questioning. “Yes, your wife is an amazing cook. Tell me, Bishop, how did you two meet?”

  “We were introduced by a mutual friend. After my first wife passed away, I spent my time concentrating on raising my kids and didn’t get out much. So my friend invited me to a cookout, Yolanda was there, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  Although he was telling the story of meeting his wife, Julian noticed that a sad look washed over Jimmy’s face. “Is everything all right, Bishop?”

  “Yes, I just get a little sad when I think of it. I mean, meeting Yolanda was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It just saddens me that our friend who introduced us never got to see how great it turned out.” Jimmy took a slow sip of his tea and sighed. “I still can’t believe that a guy can walk into a TV news station and open fire on innocent people l
ike that. Greg never even saw it coming.”

  “Greg Foster? Are you telling me Greg Foster introduced you to your wife?” Julian’s mouth was gaping open.

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “Um . . . no . . . but I used to watch him on the news. Everyone in Atlanta remembers the night that gunman shot him on live television.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Yolanda went to high school with Greg, and he was one of my members right here at the church. I still miss him.”

  Julian had also attended high school with Greg Foster. They’d kept in touch over the years, and it was Greg who had sent him the letter telling him that Ophelia was dead. It was a conspiracy. He introduced Ophelia to this guy, while telling me she was dead. Seething with anger, Julian took another bite of potato salad and reveled in its calming effects. “Well, he must have thought that you two were perfect for each other.”

  Jimmy laughed. “Yes, he did, but I wasn’t so sure at first. I thought she was just another flaky wannabe actress. Atlanta is full of those types of women, and I didn’t think it would be good for me or my children. I mean, Yolanda even changed her name to try to get more acting roles.”

  Tea spewed all over the table as Julian abruptly and violently spit it out. I was right. She changed her name. Feeling embarrassed, he grabbed napkins and began cleaning it up. “I’m so sorry. I thought I tasted a bug, but I guess it was just a piece of ice.”

  Lena rushed over with a dish towel and helped the two men clean up the spill. Noticing that they were done eating, she offered to remove their plates.

  “Yes . . . thank you,” Julian stammered. “Um, do you do takeout? I’d love a cup of that potato salad.”

  “Well, no sir, I’m sorry, but we don’t,” Lena answered.

  “It’s fine, Lena. Mr. Washington is my personal guest today. Please go ahead and give him the potato salad. He loves it,” Jimmy said.